


Discovery/Destiny

by MorpheusEnMemori (Its_Darling)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Background Character Death, Gen, I mean technically there's character death, Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Trans Male Character, that moment where you realize you're trans but also you misgender yourself, the realization of queerness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:40:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Darling/pseuds/MorpheusEnMemori
Summary: Antonia Devaux does not know what to do after the war.Even with forces trying to dictate to her what she should be doing, she is trying to live her best life.Or perhaps discover her way into being the man he always knew he is.a pre-canon/canon divergent OC Blu spy Lazare, before he was known as such.





	Discovery/Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> So.... I like Lazare  
but like pre Lazare, he is Antonia.  
I will be using she/her pronouns (because that is how Lazare would have identified _at the time_) until things get moving
> 
> This is inspired by a particular image I had commissioned by drink-me-whiskey@tumblr

Did it really matter that peace existed?

That’s what everyone said, even with it being three years after the War. Even in the loudest party, Antonia lounges back in the sofa, her drink in hand but she did not know how much was in it. As much as there was a woman who had kiss all along her chest, Antonia felt… nothing.  
Her disinterest caused the woman to scoff and leave for someone more inviting.

She had a thought that work was starting to dry up, and her contacts were beginning their subtle hints. Maybe it was time to retire, they said. There were plenty of Spies, especially in Agency, who were willing to marry such a bold woman, they said. Think of the prestige, they said.  
She cut contact. And now she was left with this lingering doom. As much as the Soviets and the United States were in conflict, it’s clear that the men were attempting to push her out.  
Irritating.  
Selfish.  
_Men_.

Antonia felt such a longing too. Yes, men have it better, but she wears a suit, her hair is short, and there’s _some_ appeal with the novice masculine lesbian look…  
But she wants more, in a way that she has not thought of in a while. These thoughts of being a man, not just emulating one.

She’s being silly. It’s _impossible_. No one would assist her.

"Hey, you're making a- oh, petal?" She hears.

Brought out of her stupor, Antonia looks up to see Dima. Her one true friend. She looks amazing, the dress complimented her figure and made the headscarf work with the wardrobe. They both own this location, as much as they aren't supposed to.

"What was that?" Antonia asks.

"You're spoiling your drink, and you're on a sofa alone. Remember, two of the rules?"

Antonia lifts up her glass, seeing that over half has spilled. She drinks the rest. And while this is a place for homophiles and lesbians and all those who are of like minds, with only so much space, restrictions come in place. One such thing was couples and friends could be on sofas, solo people were to be chased off.

Dima sits down on the edge of the sofa, "you have this longing look."

"Merely a stupid idea." Antonia says.

"Is it you being a man?" She heard her tales, though now Antonia has accepted it will never happen.

"Obviously." Antonia says.

"The world is changing around us." Dima says, lounging in her little corner and faces Antonia, "it's changing for us too."

"Hardly." Antonia deflects.

Sighing, Dima sits back up, slapping on Antonia's side. Even her verbal complaint did not phase the Moroccan woman, "Petal, use your words. If you wanted to talk about something else that bothers you, say so."

"You understood me just fine." Antonia says.

Dima gives an exaggerated sigh, soon leaning back onto Antonia. As much as Antonia protests, Dima is not deterred from her acting.

"Oh yes, it's such a shame, woe to my friend who only wants to be left alone to her misery."

Grunting, Antonia pushes on Dima, trying to get her off, "then you truly understand!"

"I understand you are being dramatic, petal." Dima says.

"I am not."

Eventually, Antonia gives up, letting Dima play with her hair. Despite how short it was, seems that Dima found some joy in restyling it. As much as a comfortable silence hangs between them, Antonia has a feeling.

"There's something going on..." she says.

Dima remains quiet for a few moments more and asks, "has a woman in purple contacted you? Her name is Helen."

"No." It's not a name that rings a bell, and it sounds American.

"I was approached for a job in America." Dima confirms one guess, "the woman spoke English, but had a translator. I am very suspicious of her offer. Things are not making sense."

"A translator?"

"Some Spy, I did not like how he spoke. Said as much." Dima says, "I don't know, things did not make much sense, it could have been him misleading. But Petal… She knew you by full name."

"W-What?" Dima allows Antonia to sit up. This is fairly serious, Antonia is careful about who knows her name. So how did this woman just... know.

"And I went asking around the Monastery. Maxime especially did not understand why we are being sought out."

The next best bet was him, but Antonia would sooner die than ask him for any information. He puts far too many strings on his information.

"Did she know of her?" Antonia asks.

"Not that I can gather. But she knew a lot of things... Things that I did not even tell you." Dima says, "And since she knew you by name, I have my suspicions she will approach you next."

Grand. And Antonia was already trying to shove off offers to work for Agency. And by work, she half suspects they hope to have her, arrange some sort of union, and have her make babies.  
She had one. One was beyond what she wanted, but she knew she would have no more.

"I will handle her like I handle Agency." Antonia says.

"I do not think shooting her is possible." Dima says.

"What? I can try."

\-----

While walking down the street, Antonia knew she was being followed. She had to take up the skirt, and even with her obscuring her appearance as much as she could, someone picked her out. And Antonia thought that given the cold weather, she looked rather indistinguishable from the others bundled up.  
Ah well.

She turns into an alleyway, getting out her gun and was more than prepared to shoot first. Just as the Spy walks in, she has it pointed at him.

He immediately raises his hands up defensively, pleading, "Miss, please. You must have known by now that you are getting an offer."

"I am not interested in the Agency."

"I am not in Agency." he says immediately, "I work for a company called MannCo., in America. My boss would like to speak to you."

Raising a brow, Antonia sorts that this must be the Helen figure. She debates furiously, knowing that shooting him likely would not lead to Helen leaving her alone... But she did not trust this Spy.

"And why should I go with you?" she asks.

"It is to arrange a meeting, not for you to follow." the Spy says, "Neutral ground, a restaurant named L'Arcane."

She never heard of such a place, even with the Spy stating where it was... As much as it technically sat on neutral ground, she was still mistrustful and uncertain. The Spy seemed to notice this.

"In... For advice, suggestion, whatever you will. My boss wants to speak with you. She will arrange ways to do so. This is the best way, the easy way. You do not have to agree, it is not pressuring you now. But I fear if you give responses that you gave to Agency, my boss will not be so understanding..." he says.

Antonia did listen to him, but her grip on her gun gets tighter, “I do not like how you speak.”

“That is exactly what Miss Rishmawi said, but- Please Miss, place a little trust in me.”

Antonia didn’t. But she mistrusted Helen more, and this Spy was going to lead her to him. She slowly lifts the gun away, seeing that the Spy is visibly relaxing. Until she speaks.

“You will tell Helen that _I_ am meeting _her_, not following _you_.”

“But Miss-!” she moves the gun, and it’s enough for the Spy to back away, nervous.

“My terms. She is seeking _me_, not the other way around.” Antonia argues, “Therefore, I hold the cards. She can wait.”

The Spy was either unwilling to argue, or perhaps saw her point, for he runs away when she starts to put away her gun. Good enough, with directions to L’Arcane, she could get there in her own time. And set up an earpiece, hiding it well enough that no one could tell she was wearing one. She contacted someone in the Monastery, a fringe group of Spies that she worked with during the war, and gotten an English translator.  
It will be awkward, listening to an assortment of people, but this translator is good.

L’Arcane looks new. Far too new. Some fancy restaurant, and while it should be busy, there was a kind of forced business that made her suspicious. She was allowed in, and directed to a table in the middle. The Spy, and an older woman dressed in purple. Hair that had a little bit of grey, quite obviously smokes, and seemed to look through people with a piercing gaze.  
Helen.

“_Good day to you, Miss Devaux._” Helen says, in English, “_I am sure you know I am Helen_.”

The translator translates for Antonia, and quickly commands Antonia not to respond. It must have been a test, since the Spy does not offer to translate. The three of them silently stare at each other, and eventually Helen sighs.

“_She must not know English, get her caught up_.” Helen tells the Spy.

“Miss.” The Spy starts, in French, “Helen would like to graciously thank you for arriving, and that she hopes you will consider what she has to say.”

The translator comments that this must have been what Dima mentioned about things sounding wrong. The Spy had too many flowing words, and could easily mislead an uninformed person.

“_As it stands, I am in the business of hiring new people for the Manns. I heard of your reputation through the grapevine of Agency Spies, and I heard you are bored. I can sympathize. Wars are far more entertaining than peacetime._” Helen says.

“Helen says that she has a position for you with one of the Manns. They are rival brothers, whom you will work for one of them. She has heard of your war reputation, and thought to seek you out with a lucrative offer.” The Spy says.

Antonia remains quiet, only choosing to lean back in her seat and relax her posture, expressing a disinterested look. She’s not liking what she hears, especially with this meddlesome Spy. Despite how she suspects that whatever people are present are _paid_ to be here, she would not shoot the Spy. Not yet.

“_Your skills as a codebreaker and expert sleuth are perhaps the most intriguing, we have a great need for this skillset. I have heard of whom you were trained under, and while it is an unfortunate business to have a sullied reputation, you and I as women should understand how to move past this. I am offering more than just a salary, in fact, I am willing to show you what I can offer you._” Helen says, looking to the Spy to wait on him to finish translating.

“She notes your codebreaking skills, and…” the Spy half debates on what he wants to say, but notes that Helen is staring at him, quickly amending with, “She sympathizes the plight of womanhood. She respects smart, tough women like her. And thus, she is extending this offer. There is a specific object she wishes to show you.”

Helen does manage to pull out from within her coat a sliver of gold-  
No, this isn’t gold. This is… It’s enough to make her sit up, leaning in to get a better look at a material, which she can hardly believe that she sees it.

“Australium?” Antonia had only heard of the mythic properties of this material, she had the chance to see a piece of it. She merely recognizes it due to a stamp on the face of it. The wild, crazy Australians with their strange tech and abilities… And Helen has some.

“_I had discovered a variety of statements that my Spies on retainer has managed to find out about you. You come from a prolific line of Spies, and I recognize talent when I see it. I am in need of an assistant, and I think you would fit nicely._” Helen says.

“Helen…” the Spy starts, “She offers you a job of an assistant. She promises it will be entertaining and will suit your needs.”

With the offer on the table, Antonia has to think, and listen to the translator’s commentary. She does have a secret signal for her specific translator, where Antonia digs into a purse, taking out and opening up her compact mirror and starts reapplying lipstick. The translator hears this specific sound her compact mirror makes, and he suggests her to speak in English, with him assisting her.  
Antonia wants to argue, but he sorts out a few statements. He listens for signals of agreeing, and eventually Antonia shuts her compact mirror, looking directly into Helen’s eyes.

“I have, translator.” Antonia starts, feeling uncomfortable with these words that sound so strange, but can see the Spy is outright shocked while Helen looks at her critically, where she does her best to follow with what her translator tells her, despite it sounding so strange and accented, “I do not wish to join. But. Your translator is _shit_. Lies. Leaves out information. You should fire him.”

Boldly, Antonia starts talking in French to get more English phrases to say to Helen, managing with, “I. Am not. A clone. Go make one. I have been someone else’s little soldier for too long. I am my own. I will remain my own.”

With that, Antonia stands and seems prepared to leave. But, it’s Helen’s voice that gets her to pause.

“_Thank you of informing me of the Spy’s incompetency. Next time, I will do much better and have more trustworthy people than those who clearly seek to please me for their own motives._”

Making a disgusted face, Antonia turns away and leaves. She doesn’t even look back when she hears a gunshot. It was the Spy’s fault for trying to mislead both her and Helen. Not that Antonia would ever consider joining Helen.

**Author's Note:**

> listen trans stuff is messy at times, and no one way to ID as trans and all that fun stuff.  
These things are not always consistent. No one trans person agrees on this stuff.


End file.
